Chapter 10 - Rookie
I have no idea what's happening between us.
Amanda's pressed against my chest, her breathing evening out as exhaustion takes over. My arms are wrapped around her body, holding her close in a way I've never held anyone before. And it feels... right. Which is fucking terrifying.
This is more than just sex. More than a hate-fuck to get her out of my system. This is passion. Connection. Something real and raw and worth exploring.
If I'm willing to put my hate aside.
But can I? Should I?
She asked me why I hate cops. Wants to understand what made me this way. And maybe telling her will help her realize why I feel like this. Maybe it'll help me understand if we can actually make this work, or if we're just fooling ourselves.
I’m now cuddling. A man like me is fucking cuddling. This is new territory, vulnerability I've spent years avoiding. It's overwhelming, making my chest tight and my thoughts scattered.
I pull out of her embrace, and she makes a small sound of protest.
"Danny?"
I sit up, running a hand through my hair. "You asked why I hate cops."
She sits up too, pulling the sheet around her body. Her green eyes are alert now, focused. "You don't have to tell me if—"
"No." I take a deep breath. "You deserve to know. Especially if we're going to... whatever this is."
She waits, patient and quiet. It makes this easier somehow.
"I had a brother," I start, the words rough in my throat.
"Nathan. He was two years older than me.
My best friend growing up. We did everything together—sports, school, getting into trouble.
" A bitter smile crosses my face. "Our parents had plans for us.
Nathan was going to be a lawyer. I was going to be an engineer. Nice, respectable careers."
Amanda's hand finds mine, squeezing gently.
"Five years ago, Nathan was working late at a convenience store. Trying to save money for law school." My jaw clenches. "Some asshole came in to rob the place. Nathan gave him everything in the register. Didn't fight back. Did exactly what you're supposed to do."
I can still see the crime scene photos in my mind. Still remember the call from the hospital.
"The guy shot him anyway. Point blank. Left him bleeding out on the floor." My voice drops. "A customer found him twenty minutes later. Called 911. But it was too late."
"Danny, I'm so sorry—"
"The cops barely investigated." The anger rises. "They took statements, filed a report, and basically said there wasn't much they could do. No witnesses who got a good look at the shooter. No camera footage that was useful. Just another dead kid in a robbery gone wrong."
Amanda's grip on my hand tightens.
"I begged them to keep looking. Offered to help.
But they had other cases, other priorities.
Nathan became a statistic. Just another unsolved murder gathering dust in some filing cabinet.
" I look at her, letting her see the rage that's lived in me for years.
"That's when I realized the system is fucked.
That badges don't mean justice. They mean bureaucracy and indifference and protecting their own asses. "
"What did you do?" she asks quietly.
"I became obsessed. Spent every spare moment trying to find the shooter myself. Lost my job. Dropped out of school. My parents thought I was having a breakdown." I laugh without humor. "Maybe I was. But I couldn't let it go. Couldn't let Nathan's death mean nothing."
"How did you end up with the Savage Riders?"
"I was following a lead on the shooter. Got into a bar fight with some guys who knew him.
King and Tank were there. They broke it up, asked what I was after.
" I remember that night clearly. "When I told them, King said he'd help me find the guy.
But I had to work for the club first. Had to prove I was serious. "
Amanda's eyes are wet with unshed tears. "Did you find him?"
"Yeah." The memory is dark, heavy. "Took a long time, but we tracked him down. King let me decide what to do with him." I meet her gaze. "I killed him. Put a bullet in his head just like he did to Nathan."
She doesn't pull away. Doesn't look horrified. Just keeps holding my hand.
"It was my first kill. I puked for an hour afterward. Had nightmares for weeks." I swallow hard. "But I don't regret it. Because the cops wouldn't have done it. They'd have arrested him, and he'd have gotten some plea deal, and Nathan would still be just a name on a report."
"I understand," Amanda says.
"Do you?" I pull my hand back. "Because you're one of them. You wear that badge. You're part of the system that failed my brother."
"I know." She doesn't flinch. "And I understand why you hate it. Why you hate us."
"Then why the fuck did you become a cop?" The question explodes out of me. "You clearly see the corruption. You know Hayes is a predator who'll get away with it. So why put on that uniform?"
She takes a deep breath, wrapping the sheet tighter around herself. "Because of what happened to my parents."
Now it's my turn to listen.
"Three years ago, my parents were mugged walking home from dinner. It was early evening, still light out, on a busy street." Her voice is steady but pained. "The guy beat them badly. Put my dad in the hospital with a broken jaw and cracked ribs. My mom had a concussion and a fractured arm."
"Fuck," I breathe.
"People walked by. Dozens of them. And no one helped.
No one even called 911 until it was over and the guy was gone.
" Tears slide down her cheeks now. "When the cops finally showed up, they were.
.. indifferent. Took statements, filed a report, said there wasn't much they could do without witnesses willing to come forward. "
The parallel to my story isn't lost on me.
"I sat in that hospital room with my parents, and I promised myself I'd be different." She looks at me with fierce determination. "I'd be the cop who actually helps people. Who fights for justice instead of just filling out paperwork. Who gives a damn when everyone else looks away."
"And how's that working out?" I ask, not unkindly.
"Not great," she admits. "After the academy, I realized changing the system from the inside is harder than I thought. Some cops don't care. Some are actively corrupt. And civilians don't trust us enough to accept help even when we offer it."
"So why stay?"
"Because someone has to try." Her voice is passionate now. "I know the system is broken. I know there are cops like Hayes who use their badges to hurt people. But that's exactly why I need to stay. To be the one who stands up. Who does the right thing even when it's hard."
I stare at her, this woman who walked into a biker clubhouse alone, who lost her virginity to a man who hates everything her badge represents, who's trying to fix a broken system from the inside despite knowing how impossible it is.
"You're either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid," I say.
"Probably both." She laughs wetly. "But I can't give up. Not when I know what it's like to need help and have everyone look away."
We are both people damaged by a system that failed them. One who walked away, one who stayed to fight.
"I can't promise to stop hating cops," I say finally. "That anger... it's part of me now."
"I'm not asking you to." She reaches for my hand again. "I'm asking you to see me as more than just a badge. To give us a chance despite everything."
"I don't know if I can separate you from what you represent."
"Then don't." She moves closer. "Accept all of me. The badge, the uniform, the oath I took. Just like I'm accepting all of you. The anger, the violence, the criminal record."
"It's not that simple—"
"It is that simple." She cups my face. "We've both been hurt by the system. We just responded differently. But that doesn't mean we can't understand each other. Can't find common ground."
I want to argue. I want to push her away. Want to protect myself from the possibility of caring about someone who could break me worse than Nathan's death did.
But I can't. Because she's right.
"You're going to drive me fucking insane," I mutter.
"Probably." She smiles through her tears. "But you're going to drive me insane too. So, we're even."
I pull her close, kissing her hard. Tasting salt and sweetness and something that feels dangerously like hope.
"Ground rules," I say when we break apart. "I don't come to the station unless it's absolutely necessary. You don't bring work to the clubhouse. And we figure out how to keep this separate from both our worlds."
"Agreed." She nods. "And when we can't keep it separate, we deal with it together."
"Together." The word feels foreign but not unwelcome. "I'm not good at this relationship shit."
"Neither am I." She laughs. "I've never even had sex before today, remember?"
"Yeah." I smirk. "And now you've been thoroughly fucked. By a criminal who hates cops."
"Best first time ever," she says without hesitation.
I kiss her again, slower this time. My hands slide under the sheet, finding her soft curves. My cock is already hardening again, apparently I really can't get enough of her.
"We should eat something," she murmurs against my lips. "Build up energy."
"For what?"
"For another round." Her hand wraps around my cock, stroking slowly. "Because I want you to fuck me in the shower. And then on the kitchen counter. And then—"
"You're insatiable." I groan as she squeezes.
"You made me this way." She bites my lower lip. "Now you have to deal with the consequences."
"Oh, I'll deal with them." I flip her onto her back, settling between her thighs. "I'll deal with them all fucking night."
She spreads her legs, welcoming me. "Promise?"
"Promise." I slide into her pussy. Still wet, still swollen, still perfect around my cock. "You're mine now, officer. Better get used to it."
"Only if you're mine too, criminal."
"Deal."
I start moving, slow and deep, watching her face as pleasure builds. This woman, this cop who should be my enemy, is worming her way into my heart despite every wall I've built.
And for the first time since Nathan died, I don't hate the idea of letting someone in.
"I love how you feel," she gasps, her legs wrapping around my waist.
"Yeah?" I thrust harder. "Tell me."
"So full. So stretched. So perfect." Her nails dig into my back. "Like you were made to fuck me."
"I was." I lean down, my forehead against hers. "Made to fuck this curvy body. Made to make you scream. Made to fill this pussy with my cum until you're dripping."
"Danny," she whimpers.
"That's it. Say my name." I pick up the pace. "Let me hear it."
"Danny, Danny, Danny—" She chants it like a prayer as I fuck her harder.
This is insane. We're insane. A cop and a biker, damaged and desperate, trying to find something real in the wreckage of our pasts. But as she comes around my cock, screaming my name, her pussy clenching and milking me, I know I'm not walking away.
Not from this. Not from her.
"I'm close," I grit out.
"Come inside me again." She pulls me closer. "Fill me up. Mark me as yours."
I slam into her one last time and explode, my cum pumping deep inside her. She moans, her body trembling, her pussy rippling around me.
When I finally catch my breath, I collapse beside her.
"So," she says after a moment. "Is this the part where you tell me you'll call me?"
"Fuck that." I pull her against my chest. "This is the part where I tell you you're not leaving. You're staying here. With me. Where you belong."
"What about work tomorrow?"
"Call in sick." I kiss her temple. "We're spending tomorrow in bed. And the day after that. Until I've fucked you in every position imaginable and you can't walk straight."
She laughs, the sound happy and free. "My chief is going to kill me."
"Let him try." My arms tighten possessively. "You're mine now. And I protect what's mine."
"Even if it's a cop?"
"Especially if it's a cop." I tilt her face up, meeting her eyes. "My cop."
She kisses me, sweet and full of promise. "Your cop."
We fall asleep like that—tangled together, her body soft against mine, our breathing syncing. Two broken people finding something whole in each other.
Tomorrow we'll figure out the details. How to balance her badge and my vest. How to keep both our worlds from imploding. How to make this work when everything says we shouldn't.
But tonight, we just hold each other.
And for now, that's enough.